


good morning

by tsuii



Series: lust for life [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, Post-Time Skip, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:15:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25239853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsuii/pseuds/tsuii
Summary: Komori dreams of building a little home that’s meant for two.
Series: lust for life [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1828462
Kudos: 5





	good morning

Every morning, if the weather allows it, Motoya brings his dog out. Today is what he considers a perfect morning: lethargic sun and almost dry pavements.

He woke up to drizzle and distant thunder, like a track in a meditation app - soppy but good. Yet, nothing beats petrichor and a gentle breeze. He reckons this combination is a universal weakness. Now, it’s eight. The sun is obscured by remnant clouds that only allow faint sunshine to filter through.

It’s spring - his season and the season of unbridled optimism. If he’s lucky, he’ll finally see the bush warblers. He's brought berries as an offering and bait and prays they don’t shun his enthusiasm. There’s nothing he can do about Peach’s excitement though. Still, he’s hopeful. His affinity with animals is, after all, ingrained. He's an ancient forest, a refuge for living creatures.

At twenty-three years, being down-to-earth has been an enduring appraisal, along with commentaries of sturdy defence. Motoya fancies himself as a principled man, or a tree: once a fir, lately an elm, but now he wants to be a cherry blossom tree. Better yet, a hybrid of oak and cherry. Sakusa has told him that’s quite a stretch since Motoya’s getting worse at hiding his snarky remarks. They’ll agree to disagree; he’s shed some of that mischievousness since high school, but still retains his tendency to worry about others. For now, he’s plum and fir.

Motoya hears the familiar call of a warbler. This one starts with a soft, swelling crescendo, then a triplet resembling a broken chord, and a final descending note. He spots it, crouching and rising with the occasional stretch that resembles a soldier at attention; each move is a comic, decisive brushstroke.

He feels ready, and one day, Motoya will share his life with someone.


End file.
